


Vulcan Councilling

by lilsmartass



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsmartass/pseuds/lilsmartass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt Kirk/Spock Kor gets the opportunity to use the Klingon mindsifter on his old nemesis James Kirk for Dark Fest</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulcan Councilling

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: To my continuing disappointment, I don’t own the Star Trek characters.  
> Warning/Spoilers: References to torture and some rough, if fully consensual sexual activity.  
> Genre: Angst, dark, established relationship

** Vulcan Counselling **

Jim sighed as the screen finally went blank, unutterably grateful that he had taken this transmission in the privacy of his office and not on the bridge in front of his entire alpha shift crew. He had cleared himself for duty over McCoy’s strident objections and the debriefing had left him drained and exhausted. It was all he could do to keep himself from leaning back into Spock’s warm comfort from where he stood behind Jim’s chair, a silent statement of unequivocal support over Admiral Morrow’s furious dressing down. Spock leaned over him, one hand on Jim’s gold clad shoulder to uncharacteristically confirm for himself that the connection was severed. Satisfied, he spun the chair to face him and said in an even tone. “The Admiral was correct Jim.”

Jim suspected that the dull ache inside of him wanted to be hurt, or at least surprise, but he didn’t have it in him. He had kept every last syllable of classified information to himself thanks to the techniques Spock had taught him, but he had given the Klingons damn near everything else. Faintly it occurred to him to wonder if he’d get back the ability to feel in the sharp vivid colour he was accustomed to. It was better than thinking about the fact that he’d told Kor more of his childhood fears and future aspirations – anything to not betray his ship, his crew – than even Spock knew. He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off yet another incipient headache, they were almost constant despite McCoy’s treatment, and tried to distract Spock’s too-observant eyes both from the gesture of pain and vulnerability and the fact that his hand still shook by saying, “You know I had no choice.”

Spock’s eyes darkened slightly, but his tone was its customary even baritone when he said, “You know that is not the case. I-”

Jim hissed, disapproval or disgust or outright rejection. “I wasn’t going to just offer you up like some _sacrificial_ _virgin_.”

He half expected the anger in his tone to be rebuffed with a slight twitch of Vulcan lips and, “You know as well as any that I am not a virgin,” or a retreat behind the mantle of formality and professionalism and a list of _why_ Spock would have been better suited: he was trained in Vulcan pain suppression techniques, he was a mere first officer and not as vital to the ship...He absolutely did not expect his bondmate’s eyes to darken further and for Spock to bodily hoist him out of the chair and slam him against the wall. “That does not logically extend to offering yourself,” he said, the natural calmness of his voice at odds with the violence of his actions.

Jim’s eyes narrowed with fury and his jaw set as his lips took on a mutinous scowl. “Don’t manhandle me Mister. We’re still on duty.”

“I find I do not care.”

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” said Jim in a low voice. His ability to feel abruptly returned and his words were staccato and infused with rage. Spock let go of him, and, Jim, still having trouble getting his nerves to respond to split second commands slid down the wall to land in an ungainly sprawl. Flushing and furious and oddly stimulated by the return of emotion, he dragged himself instantly back to his feet and squared up to the Vulcan, undeterred by the height and strength difference. “What is your problem?” he all but shouted into the face of his first.

Spock slammed him against the wall again. “I could have lost you,” he hissed, the barest trace of emotion slipping into his voice, more through volume than inflection. To Jim’s trained ear his tone was raw and that very rawness took the wind out of his sails for a long moment. Spock used his silence to claim his mouth in a hot possessive kiss. “I could have lost you,” he said again, softer, when he surfaced to allow them both air.

Jim knew, he _knew_ he should take the confession the way it was offered. That it was not a declaration Spock would make lightly. But he could remember everything he had suffered at Kor’s hands. He could remember how it had hurt, could remember the glee the Klingon had taken in tormenting him. “So I was supposed to just give them you?” he sneered, and pushed back. His muscle mass was significantly less, but Spock wasn’t expecting it and he was able to slam the Vulcan against the opposite wall. For a moment he paused, panting, vaguely feeling grateful that his lady was made of the finest armour grade titanium and his office was all but soundproofed or security would already be knocking at the door. Then he swooped in and claimed a harsh punishing kiss of his own, using his teeth to rebuke Spock for questioning his strength and his decision, even as he used his tongue and lips to reassure of his continuing presence.

Spock growled in his throat, low and feral and hooked one graceful leg around the back of Jim’s knee to topple them both to the ground, pining Jim still beneath him. “I am Vulcan, and I have withstood it before. I would have been safer-”

“Don’t play the logical Vulcan card with me Spock. Not like _this_ ,” he spat furiously, trying to get enough leverage to regain the upper hand, and realising that wouldn’t work, began struggling desperately.

Spock gasped slightly as one well placed fist made contact with his kidney and readjusted his hold on Jim’s biceps. He leant in to lick at Jim’s lower lip, a seductive gesture he knew Jim had a weakness for. Jim snapped at him with a low growl of his own, and when Spock reared back out of reach of his teeth he used the freedom offered to raise himself and claimed another harsh kiss. He was on the bottom, and Spock seemed unwilling to let him forget it, but he used his tongue like a weapon, duelling for dominance, refusing to submit now where his mind had caved so easily there. “I know what that machine can do to a mind,” Spock argued when they broke apart.

Jim closed his eyes slightly; unable even to parse the emotions he was feeling. He felt almost dizzy from the wash of desperation and relief he could feel streaming from Spock’s mind to his own through their bond, and his own arousal was hot and heavy in his mind. But overcoating all of it, like an unpleasant smell, was a vicious wave of nausea and fear and pain and _ohgodnopleasenohurtsnotstopspock klingonhandspininghimdown laughingashescreams whirlingrippingpain momspocksamspockbonesspockenterprisespockspockspock tearingintohimthroughhimeverythingheknowslaidoutforthem_ “Yeah, I’ve a vague idea myself,” he grunted.

Spock stood, and hauled him up to his feet in the same fluid motion. “Do you have any idea how fragile humans are in comparison to most other species in the galaxy?”

“Not fragile,” Jim huffed, trying to hide the fact that the constant shifts in altitude were worsening the _tearingrippingburning_ pain that still resided inside his head.

Spock exerted just enough pressure on Jim’s shoulders to prove unequivocally that, should he want to, he could force Jim down to his knees. His voice lowered slightly and he said, “Tell me what they did to you.”

Jim turned his face away. “You know.” Spock didn’t deny it, so he continued. “They used the mindsifter on me, tried to get my command codes. They didn’t succeed.” His face resumed its defiant cast and he glared up into Spock’s eyes. “See, not so fragile.”

Spock resisted the urge to shake him. The time for that was past. “You were only able to resist them using Vulcan techniques,” he pointed out. “I would have been-”

“No,” there was raw desperation in the simple word. Jim took a deep breath, visibly composing himself and said, “No Spock, not you, not when it was within my power to prevent it.” The last dregs of violent passion drained from him and he went on, his voice taking on a desperate tinge as he struggled to make Spock understand, “And I know those techniques were Vulcan, but I knew they wouldn’t expect me to know them. You...they know you can beat it. They’d’ve used a much higher setting on you Spock. Kor would’ve thought nothing of breaking your mind wide open to get what he wanted.”

Spock leaned closer into Jim so he could taste the air his bondmate was exhaling, and his voice slid into a more soothing register, even as his fingers gripped tighter with concern, leaving the marks of his unspoken fear on Jim’s arms, “And you? What did Kor think nothing of doing to you to extract the information and leave enough of you to question after?”

Again Jim turned his face away. He hadn’t even spoken of this to McCoy; he had passed his psych eval. without needing to, and he had no desire to relieve his torture for Spock either. “Nothing,” he muttered, “I passed my psych.”

Spock backed him into the wall once more, but without the violence of before. He pinned him there, still and helpless, and Jim fought to keep his breath even. It had been easier when it was violence and passion and stolen, biting kisses. This was too much like it had been then. “I did not ask if James Tiberius Kirk was still capable of command,” Spock said.

Jim was faintly amazed that without really changing the tone of his voice or moving a single facial muscle he was able to go from soothing to dangerous so efficiently. “I’m fine,” he said, raising a hand to touch Spock’s face. He lowered it with a betrayed flush when he realised how badly the limb was shaking. “I’m fine,” he said again. This time it seemed he was trying to convince himself.

“Jim-”

“Don’t Spock, don’t _please_ -”

The Vulcan sighed, defeated, and released him, holding Jim only enough to prevent him from falling once more. “Tell me Jim.”

“I can’t.”

“It is no shame Jim, and you need to...McCoy assures me that the only way for humans to assimilate such instances is to discuss them.”

Spock was repeating standard procedure and Jim sighed deeply. He was actually amazed that McCoy had let him out of sickbay without at least one counselling session. He had endured enough unpleasant away missions to know what was expected, but he dug his heels in just one more time. He really didn’t want to talk about this one, he wanted to ball it up in a corner of his mind and never think about it again. “I passed my-”

“You are still capable of command. It does not mean you are not still injured.”

“I know.” Jim stopped and thought, ordering his words the way he wanted. Spock slid one hand down his arm to touch at his fingers in reassurance and Jim gripped back, unselfconscious in his need for comfort. “He...after you had beamed up with the away team, Kor took me to a room with the ‘sifter hooked up. I struggled. I was supposed to be a hostage to prove the _Enterprise’s_ good will, only there until you had evacuated the outpost. He hit me.” Jim touched the side of his face gently with his free hand, and looked almost surprised not to find a cut. “Said he didn’t believe we hadn’t known this was an established Klingon outpost and he was going to find out what espionage we had attempted.” He broke off and swallowed.

“Then he...wired me into the thing. That hurt in its own right but when he turned it on...I thought I was dying Spock. I’ve been tortured on a dozen planets, but this was the first time it never even occurred to me to try and say silent. I just...screamed. He laughed at that, said the prisoners they’d tested it on had lasted much longer, said you took it with barely a wince.” He lifted his gaze, unconsciously searching Spock’s eyes for the truth of that, and whatever he saw made him drop his eyes once more. “Then he turned it back on and started asking questions. I...I was able to do that obfuscating thing you taught me, but it didn’t stop him. Kor, he...he turned it off again and told me if I didn’t start co-operating he’d turn it up a setting and I...I begged him not to. I tried to- I _tried_ , but it _hurt_ so damn much.

“That’s the only thing that saved me anyway. The Klingon’s were enjoying their power trip, enjoying hearing me _whimper_ like a child and they stopped. Then one of them decided to interrogate me more...conventionally, to soften me up before the machine and that was...unpleasant, but you know, the usual.” The smile he gave Spock was a mere shadow of his usual expression. “It was a respite actually, but knowing with every blow that they were weakening me to put me back into that. I was terrified. I-” he broke off again, and rubbed a hand across his eyes.

“I thought I would lose you,” Spock said suddenly, subdued and hurt and bewildered.

“I-” Jim said once more and swallowed and remembered the mindsifter ripping into his head, remembered how he had screamed, remembered how he had pleaded with Kor for mercy, remembered the interrogation that had followed and the reassuring words he had been going to say fell away, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

This time when Spock leant in, the kiss was soft and sweet and Jim opened up to him, throwing back his head in willing surrender instead of fighting to assert his own dominance. “Nor do I,” the Vulcan admitted. “But Jim...you must not think less of yourself for your fear. Even I-” he paused and rephrased, “you cannot imagine the pain of knowing that your bondmate is suffering in your stead.”

Kirk sagged forward, resting his forehead against Spock’s shoulder, taking comfort in the Vulcan’s immovable presence. “He hurt me.”

“Yes.”

“He made me beg.”

“I know.”

“I still wouldn’t let him touch you. I’d still do the same thing.”

“I know that also Jim. But I do not think he will try again. His actions this time were...motivated by personal vendetta. The Klingon high council cannot stand for it if they are not to make a mockery of the treaty.”

Jim swallowed, unutterably weary and turned his face into the junction between Spock’s shoulder and neck like a sleepy child. “I know,” he admitted in a low voice. “But it won’t change what he did. I feel like he’s still- I can still hear his voice, his questions. When I go to give my codes to the computer I hesitate because my instinct is to refuse to utter them.”

“You did not fail Jim; you kept the information from him.”

There was another long silence. Jim wanted desperately to claim exhaustion and retreat to his bed as so as not to be forced to continue this discussion but he simply could not find the will to move his legs. For his part, Spock was as immovable as granite, willing to cradle Jim in this position for the rest of eternity, or so it seemed. “I was fading by the time you arrived,” Jim admitted at last, “Had you not got there when you did-”

“I would not leave you to suffer.”

The reassurance gave Jim strength as an ember of his previous fury reignited, “But you think that I would have given him _you_. When Kor was demanding a hostage as a token of goodwill, you wouldn’t leave me but you think that I would leave _you_.”

Spock did not say, “I would have been fine, Jim,” only because he did not believe his bondmate had the strength for the combat that would almost certainly provoke. “I would have survived. On Organia I was not incapacitated.”

Jim flushed, but accepted the blow. “This would have been worse,” he said instead, steady and certain.

“Yes,” Spock agreed, there was no logic in denying truth.

“Then it was worth it. Everything I suffered was worth it.”

It still troubled Spock somewhat that Jim apparently counted his safety and importance so little, and for a moment a petty, spiteful, _human_ part of him wanted to ask that if he had been later, if he had not arrived until after Jim had broken and betrayed everything he held dear, if it would _still_ have been worth it. But of course he didn’t. He understood Jim’s sentiments after all. If it had been within his power, he would not have allowed his bondmate anywhere near a Klingon mindsifter either. And the thing he didn’t tell Jim, the thing he would never tell Jim, was that he lived every moment of it anyway. Jim had not closed the bond between them. His fragile, human bondmate had not broken, but had he been there, Spock would have, and there is no doubt in his mind from the look in Kor’s eyes during the rescue, that the Klingon had known it.


End file.
